Maria Suarez, center, surrounded by family and friends, is all smiles as she leaves the Immigration Customs Enforcement Processing Center in San Pedro, Calif., Tuesday, May 25, 2004, after the Executive Office of Immigration Review heard her case and issued a "T" visa. Authorities freed Mexican immigrant Maria Suarez on Tuesday who had faced deportation after spending two decades in prison for conspiring with the killer of a man who held her captive after she arrived in this country. To the left is Trinidad Suarez, her 86-year-old mother. (AP Photo/The Press Telegram, Brittany Murray) MAGS OUT, less

Maria Suarez, center, surrounded by family and friends, is all smiles as she leaves the Immigration Customs Enforcement Processing Center in San Pedro, Calif., Tuesday, May 25, 2004, after the Executive Office ... more

Photo: BRITTANY MURRAY

Photo: BRITTANY MURRAY

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Maria Suarez, center, surrounded by family and friends, is all smiles as she leaves the Immigration Customs Enforcement Processing Center in San Pedro, Calif., Tuesday, May 25, 2004, after the Executive Office of Immigration Review heard her case and issued a "T" visa. Authorities freed Mexican immigrant Maria Suarez on Tuesday who had faced deportation after spending two decades in prison for conspiring with the killer of a man who held her captive after she arrived in this country. To the left is Trinidad Suarez, her 86-year-old mother. (AP Photo/The Press Telegram, Brittany Murray) MAGS OUT, less

Maria Suarez, center, surrounded by family and friends, is all smiles as she leaves the Immigration Customs Enforcement Processing Center in San Pedro, Calif., Tuesday, May 25, 2004, after the Executive Office ... more

Maria Suarez, locked up the last two decades over the murder of an old man who bought her for $200 and used her as a teenage sex slave, walked to freedom in Southern California on Tuesday after years of campaigning by supporters who ranged from the cop who arrested her to a coalition of congressional representatives.

To the jubilation of her family and her legion of backers, Suarez headed for home, a light lunch and an afternoon nap, woozy and exhausted by her long confinement and anxiety over her future. She had spent the last few months in a federal detention facility on Terminal Island near Long Beach fighting deportation.

"Her mood lifted when she got home," said Max Blumenthal, a family friend who has worked for years to free Suarez. "She sat on the porch, and she kept saying, 'It's like a dream.' "

Suarez, 44, was granted a special visa created in 2000 for victims of severe forms of "human trafficking," such as young girls who are smuggled into the United States and forced into prostitution. Altogether, 371 "T" visas have been granted, said a spokesperson for Citizenship and Immigration Services.

"Clearly, she was a victim," said Rep. Hilda Solis, D-Monterey Park (Los Angeles County), who vigorously lobbied for Suarez's release. In the bid to free Suarez, a bipartisan letter signed by nearly three dozen members of Congress was sent to Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge, urging him to let Suarez to remain in the country.

"The public support was so strong, collectively, it all worked out, thank God," said Solis. "Two weeks ago, I visited her. She was so tired. It's horrible what happened to her, but I'm glad the laws were flexible enough to allow her to stay."

When Suarez was 16, freshly arrived from a small town in Mexico, she was sold to a 68-year-old man, Anselmo Covarrubias, known by his neighbors in the Los Angeles suburb of Azusa as a brujo, a type of witch doctor.

For five years, Covarrubias raped Suarez and threatened her with black arts wizardry.

Fearful and superstitious, Suarez, a legal permanent resident with six years of formal schooling, told no one about the abuse.

On Aug. 27, 1981, Suarez said she woke to find Covarrubias in the backyard being beaten to death with a table leg by Pedro "Rene" Soto, who with his wife was renting a converted garage on the property.

Suarez later told investigators she did not intervene in the bludgeoning. After Covarrubias was dead, she said she washed the weapon as directed and hid it under the house. Not long after, she and the Sotos were arrested.

Convicted of first-degree murder, Suarez was sentenced to 25 years to life. Soto also was convicted of first-degree murder, and his wife was convicted of soliciting murder and being an accessory to a felony.

At her trial, Suarez was represented by Regis Possino, who had been placed on probation by the State Bar. Eventually, he was disbarred. He later became an advocate for her parole, telling prison officials that Suarez was doubly a victim -- initially of Covarrubias and then of "her own lawyer, whose representation fell far short of any of the legal or ethical requirements for such a case."

Suarez also found an unlikely ally in the homicide detective who had helped put her behind bars. In Chronicle interviews, Stanley White, retired from the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department, expressed sympathy for Suarez: "She's done more time than I think she would have gotten in this day and age."

Suarez was convicted before California first began allowing -- in 1992 -- battered-woman syndrome as a legal defense.

Incarcerated at the California Institution for Women in Corona (Riverside County), Suarez was by many accounts a model prisoner, earning her GED, contributing to various volunteer programs and expressing deep remorse.

Two years ago, the state Board of Prison Terms concluded that she suffered from "an extreme level" of battered-woman syndrome and approved her for parole. The decision was overturned by then-Gov. Gray Davis.

In April 2003, Davis approved parole for her but delayed her release for almost another year.

After Davis was recalled, the parole board approved Suarez for earlier release. Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger declined to review the case, clearing the path for her release on Dec. 18. But after being freed from prison, Suarez was immediately taken into custody by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. According to federal law, noncitizens convicted of violent crimes must be deported upon their release.

In recent months, the campaign to free Suarez intensified. Among Suarez's supporters were Rhonda Findling, a guidance counselor at Santa Rosa Junior College, and Linda Kelley, mayor of Sebastopol. The women and other Suarez supporters lobbied immigration officials and state and federal legislators.

In April, an immigration judge ruled that Suarez must be deported. Suarez filed an appeal.

"I spoke with Maria last Sunday; she was at the bottom of the barrel," said Findling, a member of the Free Battered Women Coalition. "She was totally depressed, she couldn't eat because of the stress, and her back was killing her. She was as low as I'd ever heard her. She said, 'I'm losing my spirit.' I told her, 'You have to hang on.' "

The next day, Suarez learned she'd been granted the special visa, which is issued for three years. After that, the individual can apply for permanent residency, said Sharon Rummery, regional public affairs manager for Citizenship and Immigration Services. After five additional years, the individual can apply for citizenship.

"I think it's incredible," said Kelley. "Justice was finally done."

Upon her arrival at the home of her sister Rita Valencia, Suarez hovered in the kitchen, insisting on helping to cook, telling her happy family that she hadn't been allowed to cook for more than two decades. Valencia finally relented, allowing Suarez to warm up a plate of tortillas.

For Suarez's first night of freedom, her family planned a quiet get- together. A larger celebration is planned for the week's end.

"We are very, very, very excited," said Patricia Valencia, Suarez's niece who fought tirelessly to free her aunt. "Now we can have her home with us while we work on her legal case, on having the conviction overturned or lowered."